


who is son gohan?

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Angst, Gen, Identity Issues, and there isn’t a happy ending, i rlly have no clue how to tag this, it doesn’t focus on the cell games at all though, its been a while since i watched dbz so idk how accurate it is though, its just sad, kind of, poem, this is right after the cell games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 23:11:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14091771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: mama wants me to be a scholar.daddy wants me to be a fighter.the world needs me to be a savior.i just want to be gohan.





	who is son gohan?

**Author's Note:**

> this was written in like ten minutes because i was in a writing mood and didn’t feel like writing anything super action/dialogue heavy
> 
> i guess this is sort of a poem to some degree but idk. it’s messy and i don’t know if it makes sense and it was written on a whim bc i was sad and tired
> 
> this wasn’t proof read and it’s also in all lowercase so. sorry about that

the thought of history textbooks and algebraic equations bring me an odd sense of comfort as i lay in the dirt, my head pounding and my body aching. 

they remind me of what i was supposed to be; a great scholar, not a great fighter. 

they remind me that i am not supposed to be here, lying on the ground as my vision blurs and my whole body aches. 

mama wants me to be a scholar.  
daddy wants me to be a fighter.  
the world needs me to be a savior.  
i just want to be gohan. 

i’m not sure what i am now; i’m stuck in some grey area between the two, trying to be whatever everyone else wants me to be. 

i’m not sure i’ve ever taken a moment to wonder what i want to be; it’s always been some eternal game of tug-of-war between scholar and fighter.

but what am i now? i’m lying with my back in the dirt, my ribs broken and my heart aching. my vision is slowly darkening and every sound i hear is too loud, too distorted. 

i am a mere child; a child with no real identity aside from the ones given to me by people who aren’t myself. 

the words keep floating around in my head. scholar or fighter. genius or delinquent. academic or savior. polymath or “just like your father.”

i am bruised and broken, staring up at the sky as pain floods through me, and all i can think is: who am i? who am i besides the person that i’ve been molded into by those around me? 

will i forever be stuck in some grey area of who mama wants me to be and who daddy wants me to be? 

“you’re too selfless,” piccolo once told me. “you don’t even know who you want to be. you only allow yourself to be who others want or need you to be.”

i suppose he was right. 

when the world needs a fighter, that’s what i become. when mama wants a genius son who doesn’t turn out to have a dangerous ocd for fighting like his father, that’s who i turn into. when daddy needs someone to train with and save the world with, that’s who i am. 

then who am i? who is son gohan? just some broken boy who was forced to face death and destruction at a young age, i suppose. 

piccolo was right. i am too selfless; i am only what others want me to be or need me to be.

i’ve lost all sense of who i really am. i’m just caught in the middle of being who mama wants me to be, who daddy wants me to be, and who the world needs me to be. 

and as my eyes begin to close and i slowly fall into unconsciousness, i let my thoughts drift back to history textbooks and algebraic equations. 

the odd sense of comfort is gone. 

everything fades to black.


End file.
